St. Louis Holidays

Oh, St. Louis.  It had simply been too long.

Over a year!  Can you believe it?

The longer I have lived away, the less it feels like home... though it always will be.  Does that make sense?  Every time I go back, I feel nostalgic that I don't live there any longer.  But that's just nostalgia playing its nostalgic tricks.  Moving back would mean changing so many things in my life (including my career) that it's just not feasible.  So I will remain St. Louis' biggest rep wherever I find myself living.

This was the scene at the Department of Motor Vehicles office in Des Peres.  There was a guy with an O-tank on wheels, but I'm sure you assumed that.  What a glorious Christmas scene!  Make sure to stop by your local DMV for a dose of holiday cheer!

I rolled in with my 180-some-odd days' expired license and managed to answer the troll's (You should have seen this woman.  "Troll" is kind.) questions to garner myself a new license.  Toot!  There's something to be said for keeping a root in the States (US iTunes has waaaay better stuff than its Euro counterpart)... and I certainly couldn't do this without my parents and their TLC of my mail and bills and such that still comes to the house on Fiddle Creek.  

StL pride.  

What the what is "Strayer University"??  I promptly effected some "He ain't come back since he gone to that Strayer University" talk.  It was genius, I tells ya!

The time we spent with these all-time faves was much too short due to my darling goddaughter catching a nasty virus, as well as to general holiday craziness.  But we had one glorious night, which is not accurately reflected in this photo, though I do love the range of emotion.  Ph and I are happy as clams, B looks like he just smelled something rancid, and M looks wary.  We ate at Pastaria, which is well worth any wait in excess of an hour.  But more on that in a minute.  

Spotted this mess at my parents' local Walgreens.  How anyone ever thought this was a good idea, I don't know.  Just because two things pair well, it doesn't mean they should be combined!  Why not steak-flavored red wine next? Oh, and I take issue with the use of "fine" here.  If you state that it's fine, I'm sure that it's not.

I also spotted some vodka-infused white chocolate peppermint whipped cream at the liquor store in Palm Springs and stood there with my jaw open for a good 30 seconds.  First, sick.  Second, we Americans are a fat bunch.  Third, white chocolate is disgusting in any form, but whipped in a can with vodka is not doing it any favors.  Fourth, you know people are squirting this directly into their mouths.  Keep it classy, America!

Look at these two!  B and I had a lovely lunch with these ladies at the wonderful Local Harvest Cafe on Morganford.  Those curls!

I really missed seeing this little lady, but luckily we had a little time together before a yucky virus thwarted the rest of our holiday plans.  She is growing so quickly and is such a joy to be around.  Can't wait to see her again this summer!

And this is her big sister Cosi, who is showing off the lovely brocade skirt from H&M somebody brought for her.  This girl knows how to rock an outfit, hmm?

I'll leave you with Hilde, who is enjoying the heck out of a bird video on YouTube.

Bangla Bonanza

I have really been getting around lately.  Lest you think all of this travel to be glamorous, I point you to Exhibit A:  Bangladesh. 

I've been to India (a buncha times), so I was fairly prepared for Bangladesh.  Well, as prepared as anyone can be to drop in on a still-developing country.  (Roads?  These are proving a challenge.)  Having been terribly sick on previous work trips (starts with a C-H, rhymes with "vagina") and knowing people who have been hospitalized for stomach troubles while in Dhaka, I decided I was not going to take any chances with the local cuisine.  Lame, I know.  (But really, do you even know of a Bangladeshi restaurant in your city?  In your country?)  Multiple people described Bangladeshi food to me as similar to Indian, but... "oilier."  Hmm.  It's like it helps itself right out of your system!

When at a lunchtime crossroads of pizza (full of gluten!) and chicken curry (full of risky microbes!), I opted for the pizza.  I was totally that prissy girl who eats "western" food instead of the local delicacies, when in fact I am a pretty adventurous eater.  (I should have a t-shirt made that states, "Do you have any fish eyeballs, because this gal's hungry?!")  But I didn't have any major stomach issues, so whatever.  I basically survived on a diet of nut bars and food from the Nordic Club.

Oh right, the Nordic Club.  Dhaka is dry.  As far as I understand, you can't order anything alcoholic from a restaurant.  The hotels will serve booze, but what to do if you are an expat who likes to get her drink on?  Join a club!  There is the Nordic Club, the American Club, the British Club, etc.  For the cost of a membership, which is pretty reasonable, you have the privilege to exchange your cash-money for coupons that you can then turn in for alcoholic beverages.  Yeah, the system is roundabout and antiquated (it also involves a ledger), but there is booze at the end so if it ain't broke...  These clubs also have imported ice cubes (the kind that won't give you the squirts), swimming pools and pool tables, Western food, tennis courts, and a built-in social scene.

Our journey started with a layover in Istanbul that grew from 4 to 10 hours.  We managed to station ourselves at the HSBC lounge for free drinks (didn't need that, was still hungover from the night before) and food.  We spent the layover haranguing various mustachioed Turkish Airlines employees who kept giving us the slip, endlessly replaced by another mustachioed colleague... until we got tired and holed up in the lounge.  The heavens celebrated our boarding with a lightning storm for the ages, but now that Turkish Airlines was finally loading the plane, they didn't seem to notice.  I, however, was trying to keep it together in front of my new colleagues when I really just wanted to cry.  You know who should have been struck by lightening, however?  Every one of the Turkish Airline flight attendants who were awful to the Bangladeshi travelers.  Honestly.  Y'all was totally racist on that plane.  Not cool.

We landed in Dhaka to this, the land of left luggage.

This one looked like someone was ready to take it home, but alas.  It too had been left.  The package on the bottom sort of looks like a butterball turkey.  Strange wrapping jobs, these.

Yet another shot of the airport.  This looks like some weird church basement, but it's really the lost luggage area at the Dhaka airport.  I was especially fascinated by the stroller graveyard at top center, but you can't see it so well here.

This lapped fruit is pomelo, served with cayenne salt.  It was deelish.

This is the lovely view from my coworker's apartment, where I enjoyed the pomelo.

This was the view from my borrowed desk at our office there.  Not quite as lovely.

Bottled water from the hotel.  As you can see, it's "Free from Arsenic."  Wow, that's something I've been taking for granted all this time.  Poor Bangladesh has had a real problem with arsenic in the water;  it's nothing less than a slow and painful mass poisoning.  I was jokin' it up when I took this picture, but now I feel a little bit yikes about it.

I was lucky enough to be in Dhaka at the same time as my lovely friend Taylor, who brought me this mag from her flight.  Note the warning label.

This might be one of my favorite photos ever.  I took this on the way back from visiting a supplier.  There were dozens of other pigs just like this guy, all rooting through the trash on the riverbank.

Here's a dark shot of me and the aforementioned Taylor.  I was lucky enough to take my first trip to Bangla with a dear friend and an ol' Bangla pro like T.  It's not the worst place in the world to go if it means you get to see one of your favorite ladies.

And this is Taylor's friend G, the mosquito hunter extraordinaire.  I was treated to some delicious sushi (I know, in Dhaka... but it really was super duper!) and there was nary a mosquito to speak of!  Mosquitos don't step to this guy!

Taka rocka.  Is this the same guy or what?!

Julboard

Though I am back with my parents in St. Louis now, here are some photos from the winter season in Sweden.

We've had snow on the ground pretty consistently.  There was a big dump of nearly 2 feet the first week of December (if my memory holds), and then flurries consistently enough to ensure the ground cover remains.  It is nice.  It brightens things up.  The trick is avoiding the underlying ice, so I wear rubber kickers most of the time.  I've still had a few swervy moments, but have managed to avoid damaging myself yet.

Cochino has been experimenting with new stay-cozy techniques.  The other day I found her like this, balancing herself above/on the radiator.  How uncomfortably warm she must be.

The other week, we went to Waxholm's Hotel for julboard.  We took a boat there for the mid-afternoon seating, then (over-)stuffed ourselves while the day faded to night.  It was a great way to celebrate the season with friends before everyone went their separate ways for the holidays.

Round one was a meat plate.

Round two was the fish plate.

And it wouldn't be Christmas without a dressed ham.  Long live the Christmas Skinka!  

China Writes

*Sneaky remote blog post from Shanghai... Let's see if this works.*

First things first, what is with those Cards???  Holy freaking hell!  I am little nervous about the games in SF now, but I will tell you that me being in China seems to be a huge good luck charm, if last year was any indication.  You're welcome.  I'M DOING THIS FOR THE TEAM.

Second things, here I am in stinky Shanghai, sick with an effing cold again.  Today commenced the coughing-stuff-up phase, which I recognize as the nail in my viral coffin.  So the end of this junk is nigh.  But the Swedish girls here at the office must think I'm a total lame-o.  I have done just about nothing since I arrived last Monday.  I even cancelled (after buying a 30 dollah-ish ticket) on some brunch party yesterday.  L-A-M-E.  But today I am feeling better.  I am going out to dinner!  And I may have a glass-of-chardonnay-alone-in-my-room-style pre-party soon.  Better to sit here and drink by myself than sit down at the honkey-filled bar and deflect/ignore the lecherous gazes of businessmen.  Seriously.  These men are looking for trouble and good to go.  I shudder every time I see one with a short-skirted, high-booted, ill-spoken Asian women, tarted up and taught to please.  I always look for his wedding ring because then I want to draw a defiant visual line from his ring to his eyes to shame him.  Or at least to let him know that I know.  But usually hands are in pockets and, well, I'm not gonna teach any lessons, it's true.  But BOO on YOU, Mister Businessman! 

What else?  There is a woman called "Vapour" at the local (well, the closest of the four that are within a block of my hotel) Starbucks.  And today I spotted a girl calling herself "Easy" at a retailer that shall go unnamed.  There is photographic proof of the latter on my Instagram.  The Sneaky Nametag Cam strikes again!

I have gone absolutely apeshit for the Uniqlo premium lightweight down coats and jackets.  Seriously.  I have been in the store three times now, and three of my family members will be receiving one of the models for xmas.  (Disclaimer: one of the family members is me.  But still.)  I want to throw them out Oprah-style when I am home for Christmas, "You get a down jacket!  YOU get a down jacket!  YOOOU get a down jacket!!"

I saw a Bichon Frise with a blow out and a long-sleeved/panted "denim" overall suit lift its leg on the side of a marble mall yesterday.  It was a Hee-Haw/AKC/Dog Whisperer convergence... oh man, I wish you could have SEEN it.  Unfortunately, I couldn't get the Embarrassing Animal Outfits Cam out in time (OK, this is the same as the Sneaky Nametag Cam and they're both just an iPhone), but I assure you this ranks in the top 3 of all the crazy animal shit I've seen in Asia.  A moment pulled right from my dreams.

I have been up and down Nanjing Road West (back and forth to Uniqlo...) and keep passing the same legless beggars.  But there are no crutches nearby.  So I wonder who is dropping them there?  Is there a beggar van that drives the beggar carpool in the mornings and evenings?  I imagine you could really load it up, what with legroom being unnecessary.  I assume the legless beggar van gets 'em all made up (i.e., properly dirtied) and coaches them in proper moaning techniques, too.  I saw one today, a legless lady beggar, in what looked to be a wheelbarrow with some sort of plastic-mic'ed karaoke hook-up.  She was warbling some classic Chinese jams for cash.  Now this is a beggar with initiative!  I almost gave her some money myself!  But her song kind of sucked.  

So ta-ta for now!  I am looking forward to continuing to feel better and to getting home at the end of next week.  See you laters!

One Outfit, Two Photos

New fur hat + old maxi coat + open toed shoes that are crap in the rain.  Oops.

Blah-blah-blahing.

This new hat (Thanks, Acne Archive!) is my Russian Pope Good Witch Fur Butt Hat.

Reading

What's for dinner?

Reading rubs.

The Haps in Stockholm

So many things!  Here are some photos to keep you in the loop.

Moving always brings a mini-heartbreak or two.  Bye-bye, owl cup.

I have started taking sneaky photos of the flours at the health food store so I can go home and decipher what they actually are.  Eating gluten-free is easy at restaurants, but tricky at the store as the language is entirely new to me.  So far I know that "vete" = "wheat."  It's a start.

A sleepy gate at Arlanda airport.  The airport reminds me lots of Port Columbus Airport.  (See how I left out the "International" from its name?  I know, that was rude.)  Except that it's in Scandinavia.  Hmm.

We read this as "Skank-ar Kate."  And we laughed and laughed.  

No nudie photos inside, I can report.

This bingo board is our apartment building's laundry reservation system.  It had me beat a few weeks ago, until I realized I was trying to move someone else's number.  Whoops.

Marj came to visit!  Did I mention that?  We have been so lucky to have friends already visit us.  

The weather was sort of crappy, so we did a boat tour of the archipelago.  

And then Leila came to visit, for a last-minute weekend.  Here she is with B, wondering wherever are our "pig chips."

Here they are!  Oh boy, this treat was off the Delicious-Meter!  We felt better about ourselves eating what the restaurant dubbed "pig chips" instead of "pork rinds."  Crispy skin is pretty delicious no matter what you call it.  

Leila snapped this one of our little gypsy family.  Oh boy, is Cochino a pro at this.  

Winding down a weekend of shopping and fun with Leila.  

My Window

My writing window, I mean.  I tried to pry it open last night--and the night before, but gave up without much effort.  Because I know that if I have to force it open, I'm not going to like what's on the other side.

It's just, I haven't been in the mood much lately.  M was in town visiting us from the States last week, so it was an all-out binge.  I'm talking elk sausage and Beef Rydberg (holy hell, it's like gourmet breakfast--for dinner!), veal meatballs, and some deer something or other at a Viking-themed restaurant... and enough wine to wash it all down.  I am still blimped out, despite being on a relative detox this week.

But back to the writing mood.  I am hoping it will hit just about when the winter weather does.  I'm anticipating blogging like crazy while it is cold and dark outside.  Sounds nice, right?

It's funny because I write this blog a bunch in my head, but it always happens when I'm on the metro or at work or in the shower or something.  That's when the words come and line themselves up on their own, so that the phrasing is perfect and I'm the funniest person in the world.  I think, yeah, I'll pop that on the blog later.  Good job, Jode!  But when it's later and I'm home from work, sitting in front of my laptop on the coffee table, I'm wondering what it was exactly I had wanted to put down.  Or if I remember what it was, I can't string it together in a meaningful way anymore.  And that's when I close up shop and put on some Mad Men (season 5 finale is tonight chez moi!) and hope that I'll feel more inspired tomorrow evening.

It makes me think of some advice Anne Lamott gave in her book Bird by Bird (which I read so many years ago and lent to someone who never returned it... boo) to always carry index cards with you to write down phrases as you think of them or dialogue as you overhear it or whatever.  Fumbling with index cards during a moment of inspiration sounds like a real pain in the ass (especially in this age of techno-gadgetry... I'll bet there's some damn device that can record what I'm thinking while I'm thinking with no effort on my part by now... right?).  But it's the idea of always having something at the ready to record your creative moments.  Because once they pass, they are often gone for good.  Or they never reappear in their initial brilliance, anyway.

It's like the watered down drink you find on your coffee table the morning after a great party.  It was such a good idea at the time, in the moment, but now you wonder what possessed you to mix it... and why you thought it was a good idea to get out the Kahlua.  You question how this milky watery mess ever made sense to you, much less was appealing.  Yeah, that's how it goes with my blog pops, too.  Did I really crack myself up over hearing two different radio stations across my work department morph into Kate Bush singing "This Woman's Work," when it was actually like, Robyn on on side and Skrillex on the other?  Or some shit?  Yeah, I did.  And see, it doesn't hold anymore.  Stupid Kahlua.

So here's hoping my writing window glides right open when the season goes south.  My literal windows will remain firmly shut however.  It's gonna be cold out there.

One Outfit, Four Photos

Today's dress was a score from yesterday's visit to the employees-only store at my work, wherein you (if you are an employee, duh) can buy things for as little as 1 euro.  This dress, 1 euro.  I don't know if it was or will be in the store and I am trying to come correct on collecting cheap clothes anymore, but what can I say?  The fuzzy brushed lace spoke to me and it looked about my size and, well, next thing I knew I had a new dress.

Dress, H&M.

Tights H&M.

Cardigan, old Gap.

Necklace, made by Glendon.

Boots, I forget.

While I was photographing, this frenzy was taking place.  Apparently fuzzy lace gets someone else going, too!

One Outfit, Two Photos

I am in love with this color combo.  I did not want to take this off.

Really, I don't think the photos do it justice.

Dress Cos, Cardigan vintage Adolfo, Tights H&M, Shoes Opening Ceremony.

New Boots

A Swedish winter involves preparation.  I am still looking for the PERFECT winter coat  (I have found warm, yes... but stylish, not yet...), but at least I have found my winter boots.

These are Sven Clogs.  I know, I know, I went all the way to the US to buy some Swedish clogs, but the lovely people at Sven custom make the clogs just for you, so you can play with the colors/leathers as you like.  I went for black shearling with blue backs and some disco gold highlights.  (The "belts" are removable and will likely not be worn.)  I sent them an outline of my feet so that the fit would be perf, and let me tell you, they were like a dream from the moment I put them on.  (Let's not talk about the fact I am in a size 42 base, though.  These clogs be tranny sized!)

The boots are well-made and weatherproof, as is I can wear them in the rain and snow.  Perfect, right?  Oh, and I can roll down the tops for some shearling flair.  These boots put Uggs to shame.  Why do those things even exist??

Go on, make your own boots here!